


Beauty and the Witch

by Smart_heart



Category: Hilda (Cartoon)
Genre: Beauty and the Beast AU, F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-20
Updated: 2020-12-03
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:55:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 19,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24827176
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smart_heart/pseuds/Smart_heart
Summary: Deep in the dark forest, there’s a castle filled with magic and mystery, where no one would ever go if they could help it.But an adventurer runs from nothing, and she might come to regret it.Sketchbook BatB AU for reasons
Relationships: Johanna | Hilda's Mum/The Librarian (Hilda)
Comments: 16
Kudos: 27





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Look. I’m in exams week, and I want to focus on Family Fights, but this idea would not leave me alone until I wrote it. I hope you enjoy.

Hilda was lost. 

It had taken her a while to accept it. Not because she thought she recognized her surroundings, but because an adventurer never got lost. That and because her mother had always warned her not to stray too far from the village when she was exploring the woods.

But it became impossible to deny that she had left the main road too far behind when she began to see _snow_ raining down from the skies. In _July_. When minutes earlier she’d began feeling chilly, she thought that maybe it was just something from her head, or maybe it was the wind that came at nightfall, but snow was the final straw. 

Twig, the small horse that belonged to Hilda and her mother, shivered with the cold as well, neighing as he too noticed that something was wrong. He grew more shifty with each step, stealing glances at the trees. He was also beginning to get stubborn, not obeying Hilda’s commands right away, making her grasp the reins with a stronger grip.

“Calm down, boy.” She said, leaning forward to pat Twig’s white fur. “It’s okay.”

The situation reminded Hilda of something she’d read one day, that if one traveled south enough, the seasons changed. Could that be what had happened? She supposed it was possible, but there was no way to know for sure. When she’d walked to their local bookseller and asked him to show her the place where the seasons switched (the _equator_ , her book had called), he’d simply humphed and said that it was unbecoming of a lady to be that curious. She’d returned home that day feeling angered and frustrated; her mother, one of the only people she knew who saw curiosity as an exceptional trait, _especially_ in ladies, had been able to soothe her with tales of more open minded towns. She hadn’t, however, had a book with a map she could show her daughter.

Maybe she should ask Frida if she had one. Her friend had also come from a background where the search for knowledge was encouraged. But she supposed that in order to do that, she’d need to get out of that forest first. That sure was beginning to look like the tricky part. 

As the sky grew darker, she could feel her horse becoming even more restless, but now she understood it. As she looked at her sides, she saw big animals following them, their eyes shining in the gloom of the forest as they stealthily accompanied the young girl.

Hilda took a deep breath, bringing in that cold air to fill her lungs. She couldn’t panic. If the wolves realized she’d seen them, they’d surely attack. There was no way she could fight them, she’d have to figure something out and quick.

It wasn’t typical of her to let her mind be clouded by fear, but as Twig’s trot seemed to become more erratic, making her sway in her saddle, she could think of nothing to save her. In the middle of the forest, no one would hear her screams, and as fast as she ran, the wolves would catch up.

Her breathing was coming in jagged exhales when she heard a fallen tree branch snap under her horse’s hoof. As if they had been given a cue, three wolves, two from the left side of them and one from the right, leapt forward to attack them. The fastest wolf managed to bite one of Twig’s back legs before he broke into a full gallop, making Hilda lose her balance and almost fall backwards with the speed.

He ran along the road, the wolves howling behind them as they tried to catch up, and Hilda could hear other wolves gathering up in the woods around them. She frantically looked around for anything that could help, but at the speed Twig was going, she could barely pay a passing glance to her surroundings. And yet, the wolves gained ground.

The cold wind hit her face, making it hard to think as the snowflakes made her hair and clothes wet. Twig was not used to running like this, and Hilda knew he wouldn’t last much in this pace. Eventually, he’d get tired and collapse. And then the wolves would get to them. 

She didn’t know if she’d spent minutes or hours in this mad chase, hoping for a village to appear or maybe for a hunter to find her, but eventually she saw the end of the road.

It led directly to a castle.

The building was dark and imposing, towers of stone rising to the sky. It looked abandoned, and incredibly sad, an aura of mystery emanating from it. The castle grounds were surrounded by spikes of metal that she supposed were a fence, albeit a deeply terrifying one from the distance. But still, it was shelter, and thus a blessing.

The only problem was that, as if by magic, the large gates seemed to be closing themselves as she approached.

She gasped when she realized this, and pressed her heels into her horse to ask for more speed, leaning forward and locking her knees around his torso in order to have stability.

“Come on, boy.” She whispered. “Just a little more, _please_ ”

The gate got closer, the entrance more narrow with each second, until the were finally able to cross it. The gate hit Hilda’s legs and ripped a part of her dress, but closed just in time to leave the wolves outside.

The girl let out a triumphant cry as Twig slowed down to a halt in front of the castle. Her ripped skirt didn’t bother her; as was her habit, she was wearing leggings under it, and had no trouble getting down from her horse when the danger was over. She could still hear the wolves howling and trying to break in, but she was positive the worst had passed.

“That was a close one.” She said as the took the reins from behind Twig’s neck and brought it over his face to guide him. 

“I’ll see if there’s anyone inside. There must be a stable around here, maybe it’s better if you stay there.”

She did find a stable, and a peculiar one at that. There were lit torches and fresh straw, but not one horse. Still she let Twig get comfortable and eat something. He needed a chance to recover his strength.

Next, she went out into the gardens (she thought they were supposed to be gardens, at least. Aside from a few trees, everything was dead and the ground was covered in a thick layer of snow that wet her boots) and looked for the entrance. A grand stone staircase led to the main door, which she knocked and then waited. When no one answered, she knocked again.

“Hello?” She said, rubbing her hands on her arms to warm herself. “Is anyone in there? I didn’t mean to bother, but I got lost in the woods. May I come in?”

There was one more minute of silence before she pushed the door, which, surprisingly, opened up without her having to make a big effort. Unable to bear the cold and knowing that even if she was to spend the night at the stable with Twig, she should talk to her host, she entered the castle.

“I’m coming in.” She warned as she stepped into the entrance hall, her mouth opening in a silent gasp as she took it in. The ceiling was high and decorated with paintings that were too filthy to be seen properly. Books piled up on the floor, and another staircase led to a second floor. Though the grandeur of it all amazed her, she was even more struck by how whoever lived here had more books spread across their hall than Hilda had seen in her entire lifetime.

She heard a weird sound, almost like whispering, which brought her attention to a small wooden table at her left. There was no one there, so she supposed she had imagined the sound, but she noticed two beautiful objects: a bright red candelabra, with tree lit white candles, and a grey clock, which seemed to shine silver under the candlelight.

Hilda stretched her arm and grabbed the candelabra. The castle was gloomy, and she supposed a source of light would help in her search for signs of human life. She first went to the corridor at the right side of the staircase, finding her quest futile. She was beginning to think that the castle didn’t only _look_ abandoned. 

But then, on the first door she opened, she found herself looking at a perfectly wealthy kitchen, the long table at the center filled with food. She walked closer, realizing with more than a bit of wonder that the food was fresh and warm.

Her stomach grumbled. After what she’d been through, she wasn’t surprised to be hungry, but her conscience told her that she couldn’t steal. This food didn’t belong to her and she hadn’t been offered it. Yet, they had so much. It wouldn’t hurt to eat just a little.

Knowing that she could get in trouble and wary of the whole situation, Hilda did nothing more than grab a loaf of bread, and then she carefully tip toed out of the kitchen. She gave up on her search for people, after that. It was highly unlikely that in an inhabited place, there would be no one in the kitchen with such a spread laid out. How come all that food was there, though, she couldn’t explain.

She returned to the entrance hall, wanting to be close to the door if things went awry, and set on the floor next to a pile of books, the candelabra close to her. She took a bite out of the bread, humming at its warm flavour. This was even better than the bread David’s parents made. 

Not knowing what else she was supposed to do, she picked a book from the closet pile, removing a fine layer of dust from its cover before opening it. At the first glance at its contents, she found herself fascinated, because she understood _nothing_. She could tell it was some sort of science, as it spoke of formulas and equations, and of concepts too complex for her mind to understand. But though she was curious about it all, the fact that it didn’t make sense kept her from enjoying it, and she soon picked up another, still eating her bread as she put the new tome on her lap.

This one was discarded even more quickly; not even the words made sense, for they were not only in another language, but also in another alphabet. She had more luck with the third book; it was on geography, something her mother had tried her best to teach her. But this was much better quality than any of the books her mother had been able to afford, probably better than anything their village’s bookseller had. It was filled to the brim with information, and she could only read for a few minutes before her head was spinning with the amount of facts.

As she decided to skim through it, a piece of paper fell down from between the pages. It looked older than the rest of the book, more wrinkled and yellow, and it made Hilda’s eyes shine. It was, without a doubt, a world map.

She gently ran her fingertips through it, careful not to damage it in any way, but the paper proved to be sturdier than it seemed. She recognized France from the smaller maps she’d been able to see, but the other, furthest countries she couldn’t even begin to recognize.

The world was so much bigger than she’d thought.

She was fascinated by it. She’d heard stories of pirates from the East and of the vibrant jungles south, but she’d no idea how far it was. It was only after a few moments of startled awe that she was able to realize that if the equator was that far away, there was no way she’d crossed it. And yet, snow poured outside. 

Beginning to feel cold with only the tree candles to warm her and uncomfortable with the mysterious atmosphere, she decided to walk down to the stables and sleep with Twig. At least this way, she could cuddle with him and share his warmth, and it lowered the likelihood of an awkward meeting with someone in the morning.

Still, as she got up and put the candelabra back in its place, by the old looking clock, it felt bad, nearly wrong, to leave that map behind. To her it was such a treasure, something with infinite value. And to whoever this castle belonged to, it was nothing. Just another piece of paper that was forgotten among the endless piles of books that filled the building. Some of those books had been covered in _dust_ , for crying out loud. As far as she knew, their owner might even be dead already.

Mind made up, she carefully folded the map and put it in the satchel which she always wore tied to her hips. Taking one last glance at the infinity of knowledge all around her, she walked out of the castle and down to the stables.

And this time, when she heard whispers coming from the candles and the clock, she ignored it.

_#_#_#_

When Hilda woke up, her body was stiff from sleeping with her head on a horse’s belly, and sore from the hard ground which was barely made any softer by the straw. But she’d made it through the night, and for that she could only be thankful.

As soon as her eyes fluttered open, she hurriedly began getting ready to go. Her mother had to be dying from worry, and she had no reason to stick around, anyway. As she got Twig ready for their departure, tying the saddle around his middle, she briefly considered walking inside to grab another bite of something, but discarded that idea. She’d had enough of testing her luck.

The air outside the stable was chilly, but it was not the same cutting cold from the night before. There were no signs of activity in the garden, and the gates were, somehow, open once more. Though the girl would very much like to discover more about that, as well as about every bizarre thing she’d seen on the castle, she knew better than to go exploring right away. She was tired, she was hungry, and there were still wolves outside. Her priority was trying to find her way home right away.

She climbed on her horse’s back and led him through the garden, trotting until the gates. Her mind had already left the castle behind, worrying only about making it through the woods when she heard an inhuman screech that made the hairs of her neck stand up in fright.

Gasping, Hilda looked behind her shoulder to see a giant, bird-like creature flying her way. She screamed as Twig picked speed, the horse sensing the danger they were in. But before he could even get his tail through the gate, the dark creature swooped in and grasped Hilda’s shoulders with its claws.

Swinging her legs and arms around in an attempt to free herself, Hilda horrifiedly realized that she was being lifted into the air as she saw Twig gallop away into the forest. 

“Let me go!” Hilda shouted, but the claws never gave up their grip on the girl’s shoulders.

“NO!” The creature shouted back, startling Hilda even more, not only with the fact that it could speak, but also with the anger in its voice.

“You have stolen that which is mine!” It said, its big, black-feathered wings sending gusts of wind to her face. “And so _you are mine now_.”

Hilda’s blood froze in her veins, as she remembered. _The map_. This was all happening because of the map.

“I can give it back to you!” She said, noticing that the creature was taking her to one of the towers. “Just let me go!”

“Oh, you _will_ give it back to me.” The creature growled. They got closer and closer to the tower, until they were close enough that the beast could throw Hilda through a window. She was able to fall on her feet inside, briefly trying to run before her captor landed near her and grabbed her arm. Its hand was covered in feathers with long, sharp nails, and when Hilda turned to look at its face, angry purple eyes were staring at her.

“But your life is now mine.” It snatched her satchel from her hips, opening it to look at its contents. Hilda tried to slowly back away while the beast was distracted by its contents, but the search was short. The beast put her hand inside the satchel, and then took it away as if it had been burned.

“Little thief.” It said. “You will regret this. Forever.”

_#_#_#_

Johanna had not been able to sleep. When Hilda hadn’t come back the evening before, she’d warned the sheriff, but he had barely given her any mind. He’d told her she shouldn’t be surprised, that everyone had warned her something would happen if she continued giving her daughter that much freedom, and that they could try to do something if she still didn’t show up in three days.

Johanna had shouted and raged, an attitude so atypical of her that even the sheriff had been scared. She demanded they search for her daughter right away, but all that had done was getting her dragged to her house.

She spent the night flirting with the idea of getting into the forest to look for Hilda herself. One time, she’d caught herself putting on her cloak to go. But she always got reminded that if she went into the woods at night, with no idea of where Hilda could be and no weapons, it would be more likely that _she_ didn’t come back.

Now, at the morning, she was getting ready to ask for help again, and to go into the forest if no one volunteered to help her, when she heard a nervous neigh coming from the street.

A smiled blossomed into her face as she recognized that it was Twig running to her, but it quickly fell when she saw that no one was riding him.

“Twig!” She exclaimed as she ran to him, taking hold of his reins and petting him with her hand to calm him down. “Where is Hilda?”

The horse looked into her eyes, and she could see the fear in them. Her heart stopped, her brain going through all the possible scenarios of terrible things that might have happened to her daughter. She stepped to Twig’s side, putting both hands on the saddle and her left foot on the stirrup to lift herself up onto his back.

“Take me to her.” She ordered, and held on tight as he broke into a run.

_#_#_#_

When Twig halted in front of an eerie, crumbling castle, she hadn’t thought that he had brought her to the wrong place. He was much smarter than one would expect from a horse, and incredibly loyal, too. But oh, she had so hoped he had made a mistake. It wouldn’t be surprising if Hilda had found the castle by chance and stopped to explore, but if that was the case, then she would have come back. Due to the circumstances, Johanna was positive that something more sinister had happened.

She climbed down from her horse in front of a large staircase, and climbed it to move inside through the front door. The place didn’t look inhabited, so maybe a piece of stone had fallen on top of her and rendered her unable to move. Though that didn’t seem like such a reasonable explanation once she found herself inside the front hall. While it looked deserted, it didn’t look like it was ready to fall down on her head like the outside had looked.

“Hilda?” Johanna asked, not daring to raise her voice. If the place was inhabited, she wasn’t sure she would be able to deal with the wrath of a nobleman. “Good morning, is anyone home? I don’t mean to disturb, I’m looking for my daughter.”

Out of the corner of her left eye, she could see something moving, but when she turned her gaze to that direction she saw only a candelabra and a clock on a little table. Telling herself it was probably nerves, she reached for the candelabra, curling her fingers around the cold, red metal. 

“Hilda?” She called again, louder this time, and when no one answered, she decided to climb the stairs that led upwards. The castle had clearly been great one day, but everything about it said that its glory days were long gone. The very air seemed sad.

She crossed a long corridor packed with rusty armors before finding another stair. This one was not as grand as the others; made of rough stone and spiraling up into one of the towers, everything indicated that it wasn’t supposed to be used by guests.

She climbed just the first two steps and called for her daughter again. This time, her heart picked up pace as she recognized Hilda’s voice calling for her.

“I’m coming, Hilda!” She shouted, running up the stairs.

“No! Don’t come here!” Hilda’s voice, faint with the distance answered. “It’ll catch you!”

The warning barely registered in Johanna’s mind. With her blood pumping on her ears, her legs beginning to sting from climbing so fast and the focus she needed to not allow the candles she was holding to burn her, there was barely any space on her mind for anything except for the urge to help her daughter.

She reached the top of the tower in little time, putting the candelabra on the floor and running for Hilda, who was behind a barred door, kneeling on the floor. Johanna kneeled in front of her, putting her hands on top of her daughter’s, which were gripping the bars.

“Mum, you have to go away now!” She insisted, and Johanna was terrified to see fear on her brave girl’s face.

“What is going on?!” Sticking her hand inside the cell, Johanna tried to see if Hilda had any wounds, and though she found none, her daughter had a fever. Not surprising, considering the freezing air that ran through the tower and that, as she noticed with a start, Hilda’s dress was ripped.

“There’s no time to explain, there’s a huge beast-“ before the girl could finish the sentence, the few rays of sun that entered through the window were blocked by a gigantic creature. 

Johanna heard Hilda whisper a soft “oh no” before the creature stepped towards them.

“Who are you?” It asked her, and Johanna realized that the voice speaking to her belonged to a woman. There was something wrong with it, though. It was too penetrating. Taking a deep breath, Johanna summoned every drop of courage she had.

“I’m her _mother_. What I want to know is who are _you_ ”

“That does not matter.” The creature answered. “You must go now. She belongs to me.”

Getting up on her feet, Johanna balled her fists. “She does _not_. Release her this instant.”

It was hard to see the beast’s face, let alone read it, but her momentary silence told Johanna that she hadn’t expected to be met with resistance.

“She stole something from me.” She explained. “And now she will pay with her life.”

“I only stole a map!” Hilda pleaded. “And only because I thought it belonged to no one!”

“Well it did!” The beast raged, and as it reached forward, Johanna could see its claws where feet should be, and its long, sharp nails. “And now the price must be payed.”

“I’ll pay it!” Johanna said, and there was only the sound of the wind raging outside the tower as both Hilda and the beast looked at her in confusion. Whatever this being was, Johanna knew she couldn’t fight it. And if it truly thought that a petty theft justified _this_ , than it certainly couldn’t be argued with.

“What?”

“Mum, no!”

“I will take her place.” She confirmed as she took a step towards the beast. “Let her go and I’ll stay here. For as long as you want me to.”

The beast considered the offer. “You’d take forever? In her place?”

Johanna nodded, but Hilda got up and tried to grab her wrist.

“You can’t! It was my mistake, I’ll pay for it!”

Holding her daughter’s shoulders, Johanna leaned in to kiss her forehead. “Sweetheart, I’m older. You still have so much to do, so much to live.”

Hilda would be fine, she told herself. She was a smart, stubborn girl. Surely the mayor and the bakers would welcome her in their homes until she could work and make her own money, close as she was to their children. Yes, Hilda would be fine.

“I must warn you.” The beast said. “If you try to run away, the consequences will be dire.”

The creature, Johanna noticed, seemed to have purposefully remained where it’s face wasn’t lit. All she could make out of her body were her claws, hands, and her large wings. She squinted, trying to get a better look of her new captor.

“Come into the light.” She said, and for some reason, the creature obeyed.

It was hard not to gasp when she was able to see the whole of the woman. She wasn’t much taller than Johanna, though her wings made her seem enormous. Her whole body was covered in dark feathers, and she wore a very simple black dress that had seen better days. On her head, it was difficult to tell what were feathers and what was hair, the only clear thing is that she hadn’t bothered to comb it in a while. Her face was the most alarming part, though. Because for all that she seemed like a beast, her face was human.

Johanna stared into purple eyes with sharp pupils, and they stared right back at her.

“I will not run away.” She answered, her gaze not wavering. “I will honour this agreement as long as you allow my daughter to go without harming her”

The beast inhaled. “Very well.”

There was a rusty sound as the door to the cell was flung open, making Johanna realize that the creature in front of her had magic. _A witch_. 

Hilda ran forward to hug her mother, wrapping her hands around her middle and sobbing into her belly. Johanna put a hand on her daughter’s shoulder and another one on her head, caressing her in soothing circles. 

“I’m so sorry, mum.” She cried. “Please don’t do this.”

“It’s already done, my darling girl.” She answered calmly. “Now go. Live your life.”

“I won’t let you do this!” Hilda screamed, but she was rendered speechless as the witch spoke up.

“No, your mother is right little girl.” She said, her voice almost a sing-song. “ _It is done._ ”

The small chair that Johanna hadn’t even noticed was in the cell awakened, it’s wooden legs moving unnaturally and making it walk forward. Before she could move out of the way, it hit the back of Hilda’s knees, forcing her to sit on it, and then immediately began running down the stairs with the girl.

“Mum!” She screamed, her hand reaching for her mother, but it was useless. The chair had already disappeared down the spiraling stairs before Johanna could do anything.

“I love you, Hilda! Never forget that!”

Her daughter’s answer was hard to hear. She was already far down. Johanna stared at the spot where she had been just a second ago, feeling lost.

“Get into the cell.” The witch said, and as soon as Johanna did as she was told, the door swung closed, the lock making a snapping sound as it trapped her inside. The creature opened her wings and disappeared through the window.


	2. Be Our Guest

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might have changed Raven and Alfur’s names. Sorry, I just couldn’t handle those names on eighteenth century France. But if it makes you feel better, Raven’s first name is still the same. And his last name is Raven in french. He is now Raven Raven.
> 
> *Remembers I let David and Frida keep their names* oh shoot

All the hushed voices quieted down as the candelabra entered the kitchen, moving as quietly as it could.

“Is it true, then?” The teapot asked with urgency. “That there’s a woman in the castle?”

“Of course it’s true!” Said the antique clock, sounding offended. “You think I’d lie?”

The candelabra hopped onto a chair, using it as leverage to get himself on top of the table where the others were discussing. 

“It _is_ true. There’s a woman here, beautiful and brave! But it will take a miracle to get her to forgive the mistress, let alone love her!”

The teapot humphed. “This is the closest we’ve ever been! The time is running out, it might be our only chance.”

“I agree.” The candelabra nodded. He had no idea how they would achieve such a feat. Ever since the curse, their mistress had become moody and unpleasant, but something had to be done. He wanted to die as a human, not as a candle holder! “We have to try.”

“Well, tell us more, then.” The clock got closer as he asked. “How can we get her to stay?”

He cringed, remembering the scene he’d watched few minutes earlier.

“We won’t have to.” He answered. “The witch has taken her prisoner.”

The former maid stared at him with her mouth hanging open, and the once butler slapped his forehead. Or, at least, the place where his forehead would be were he not a clock. 

“You’re kidding me.” He mumbled, and the candelabra sighed.

“I’m not. She exchanged her freedom for that of the girl. Apparently, she’s her mother.”

“This does make things more complicated.” The teapot admitted nervously. “But not all is lost. First things first, we need to take her to a room.”

“A room?!” The clock piped in. “Oh, the mistress won’t like this…”

“This is for the mistress’s own good.” She insisted. “Now you two go take her out of the dungeon. I’ll send a cleaning squadron to the master bedroom of the South Tower. Quick! We have no time to lose.”

_#_#_#_

Half an hour passed where Johanna did nothing but sit with her back to the cold stone wall, biting back tears so as not to give that monster the victory to know she’d made her cry. Not that said monster was even there to see it; she’d flown away as soon as she’d been locked, showing Johanna that her life meant absolutely nothing to the creature.

She resented the witch for all she’d taken from her. She would never see her daughter blossom into a woman, she’d never finish that painting she’d been doing of the lake, she’d never bake again or see Hilda smile. She wouldn’t run and feel the wind on her hair, or meet new people and places. She resented the creature for all of that, but she didn’t, not for one second, regret her decision. For as long as she lived, she’d rejoice in the knowledge that her Hilda was out there, living her life and most likely exploring the world like she’d always wanted to. Her brave girl was safe, and that was all that mattered. 

Deep as she was in thought, for there was nothing else to do in her cell, Johanna startled when the barred door opened up loudly. She shrieked and got up, crossing her arms in front of her to protect her from the witch.

But the witch wasn’t on the other side of the door. Instead, the red candelabra was _looking at her_. He thanked the door for having opened up as Johanna screamed. He had a _face_ , which seemed to be carved in the wax of the center candle, and he moved the two other candles around as if they were arms.

“Madmoiselle, please, calm down!” He said, noticing the woman was close to hyperventilating. “I will not hurt you!”

“You speak!” She exclaimed. “Did she bewitch you? So that you’d work for her?”

“The mistress, you mean? Oh no, someone else turned me into a candle holder, so fear not!”

Johanna frowned, her knees still wobbly from the shock. She’d imagined the witch had enchanted a normal candelabra to be able to move, but from what he said, he had been a person. And there was someone else with magic around.

“In fact, the mistress is so considerate that she ordered me to have you brought to another room!”

“Did she now?” Johanna lifted an eyebrow, not trusting anything that came from the witch. “I think it would be better if I stayed here.”

“Oh trust me, you’ll eventually get tired of the whole ‘cell’ thing.” Said another voice, making Johanna jump. “It would be better if we just took you there now.”

As the speaker walked near the candelabra, she realized that those were the objects that had been sitting on the table at the entrance hall. She swallowed, taking a deep breath in.

“Who are you?” She asked.

“Oh!” The red candelabra exclaimed. “How rude of me! I’m Albert Furgar, the maître d'. And my friend here is-“

“You may call me Mr. Corbeau.” The clock interrupted, making his friend chuckle. 

“My old friend here isn’t too fond of his first name, I’m afraid. What about you, madmoiselle? What may we call you?”

“Johanna.” She answered, still giddy with the absurdity of the whole situation.

“Ah! What a beautiful name, fitting of a beautiful woman! Come now, madmoiselle Johanna. Let us show you to your rooms.”

And as they began to walk away, Johanna found herself following them. After all, it’s not like things could get any worse.

_#_#_#_

The way they led her through was unfamiliar to Johanna. As soon as they were out of the staircase which had led her to the dungeons, the objects began their journey through seemingly never ending corridors, so alike in their dark luxury that the woman knew she’d get lost if she tried to get anywhere on her own. If she was allowed to leave her room, that was. 

Another resemblance between the corridors was that all of them had books scattered around. Hundreds, if not thousands of tomes stacked up from the floor and almost all the way up to the ceiling. It made Johanna even more angry that the witch had sentenced her Hilda for life over a single piece of paper.

They stopped in front of heavy double doors with intricate details carved on the wood, gesturing for her to open them. Inside was a room more suitable for a princess than for a simple artist; blush pink carpet covered the floor, and the ceiling was as high as the corridor’s had been, with paintings of archangels on it. On the furthest wall, there was a gigantic window with a window seat big enough for her to sleep on. However, that was unlikely to be necessary, for in the center of the room there was the biggest bed she had ever seen. She had her own bathing chambers and an attached writing room, but out of all of this grandeur, what called her attention the most were the moving brooms and feather dusters, which seemed to have been working on the room.

Close to her, one broom swiped a heap of dust into a small shovel. It then promptly used its bristles as arms to pick the shovel up and leave the room, but not before politely bowing to Johanna, the wood twisting unnaturally.

“Oh, here you are!” Said a new voice that made the woman jump. It came from a cart that she hadn’t even noticed, standing near the entrance to the writing room. On top of it, there was a complete tea set, but Johanna figured not all of them were alive, because only the teapot had a face, which seemed to have been painted on the porcelain. “It’s nice to meet you, dear. I am miss Van Gale, but you can call me Victoria. At your service.”

“ _This_ is my room?” She breathed, trying to get over the insanity of talking objects to focus on the insanity that was the witch giving her this room when hours ago she’d locked her in a cell. Feather dusters flew past her as they finished their jobs, and another broom accidentally bumped against her legs on its way out.

“Yes, it is! Enjoy, and call us if you need to.” The cart where Victoria was on wheeled out into the corridor, and the doors behind her closed. The last thing she heard was Albert’s voice as he walked away alongside Courbeau.

“Dinner at eight, madmoiselle! We’ll expect you at the dining hall!”

_#_#_#_

Cutlery for two was set on the long table of the formal dining hall. It had been arranged so that they would sit in front of one another, but on the long edges of the table, not the short ones, so as not to put them too far away from each other. 

The stove had already finished working on dinner, and the food had a rich and warm scent as Courbeau and Albert spread it across the table. There was tension in the air. From what Albert had witnessed of them, the interactions between Johanna and the witch had been less than friendly. It would take a miracle for them to sit down and have a pleasant meal together. Unfortunately, it was a miracle that they needed.

The witch arrived at the kitchen with precise punctuality, flying in through the window, the wind from her wings making the candles in the room flicker. As she looked at the kitchen’s table, a frown formed on her brow when she noticed that her meal wasn’t there, ready for her to take to her room and eat alone like she had been doing for six years. 

She raised her eyebrows at the stove, but when it did nothing but shrug at her, she began to realize what was going on. Mumbling under her breath about meddlesome servants, she made her way to the formal dining room, stomping her claws on the floor.

“Maybe we should warn the mistress?” Victoria whispered from her cart, from where Albert was inspecting the table’s set out.

“Yes, maybe you should.” The witch said in a clear and strong voice that made all her three servants startle and look at her.

“Mistress!” Albert chirped. “You see, we thought you might benefit from-“

“No.” She cut him abruptly, sitting down on one of the chairs. “I know what you’re trying to do. Don’t.”

Victoria hopped from the cart, landing on the table with a clink that made the witch cringe. After the curse, they’d found out that they were much more resistant than _actual_ objects, but it didn’t stop her from getting worried. It couldn’t feel very safe to be made of china.

“Mistress.” She said gently as she moved closer to the witch. “We’re running out of time...”

“I _know_. Do you think I don’t?” Running her hand through her wild hair, she exhaled sharply. “I know exactly what you’re trying to do. And I’m not going to help.”

Corbeau, who had been in one of the edges of the table, frowned, making the 11 and 1 o’clock marks draw closer. “But why?”

“Because I don’t want to do this to you.” The witch answered, much more softly now. She looked at each of them in the eyes, feeling the familiar pain of guilt sting at her heart. “It’s not going to work. She will not learn to love me”

_And I don’t know how to love either_ , she added to herself. Getting up from the chair, she tried not to look at her servants again so as not to see the disappointment on their faces. “I don’t want you to get your hopes up just to have them crushed. Send some food up to my room.”

She strode out of the dining room without looking back, opening her wings when she stopped in front of the window in the kitchen. None of them had the heart to stop her when she flew out again, wanting to be like she’d been ever since the curse: alone.

_#_#_#_

It had gone better than he’d thought it would, Corbeau said. The witch had said she didn’t want them to get their hopes up, but she hadn’t been particularly angry at the idea. Albert nodded, saying that they still had many months to have the two fall in love. Victoria didn’t remain as optimistic, but her determination didn’t wane. They’d make sure to make the women have a proper conversation eventually, even if it wouldn’t be that night.

They waited for a long time for their guest to arrive, but when Corbeau’s pointers indicated forty past eight, they lost their hope that Johanna was coming.

Albert took it to himself to go up to her room and certify that she was well. He knocked on her door as strongly as he could, and then waited for her to answer.

“W- who’s there?” She asked, a little fearfully, Albert noticed, from inside her room. 

“It’s just me, madmoiselle.” 

“Oh.” He heard the soft sound of her steps on the carpet before the door opened a crack, just enough for her to poke her head outside and look down at the candelabra. 

“We were worried about you when you didn’t show up for dinner.” As he explained, Albert saw Johanna cringe, and unhappily deduced why she hadn’t come down for the meal.

“Oh, I’m just not hungry.” She lied. Not having eaten anything since morning, she was starving. But if she said so, she’d have no excuse.

Albert sighed. “The mistress won’t be joining us tonight, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

He began walking away, but when Johanna didn’t follow him, he looked over his shoulder at her. “Come now, madmoiselle. I understand that you are wary of us, but you must trust that we don’t want you to starve.”

With both fear and courage, Johanna stepped out of her room and into the gloom of the corridor.

_#_#_#_

“Oh my _goodness_!” She gasped as she was led inside the formal dining room. In its extravagance, she could easily picture a king and his court having their dinner there, covered in silk and jewels and discussing the very fate of their kingdom. But instead, the only person in the room was Johanna, dressed in the simple paint stained dress in which she’d left her house earlier that day.

Nonetheless, the food was also impressive, and could have easily been made for a royal. Being an artist, she had never gone truly hungry, but she’d never had food to spare either. Many times, she’d made herself eat less so that Hilda could have a proper meal. But this was food for someone who absolutely did _not_ have to worry about money. She didn’t miss the fact that two plates had been laid out.

“That’s… a lot.” She said as she sat down, trying to sound thankful and not ungrateful.

“I’m afraid Cook overdid himself today.” Victoria explained. “He was very excited. It’s been a long time since he cooked for a guest.”

Johanna raised her eyebrows. “Guest?”

“Yes!” Albert chirped. “You are our guest!”

“Doesn’t feel like it.” She mumbled as she parted her bread with a crispy sound, and dipped it in soup.

“Yet!” Said Victoria. “Doesn’t feel like it yet. Trust me, you’ll warm up to this place.”

She heavily doubted it. Could she really enjoy a place she couldn’t leave? All the objects were being suspiciously nice to her, but that didn’t make up for the family and friends she’d left behind. Being held captive by a monster was not something she looked forward to warming up to.

“I know what you must think about our mistress.” Albert said as if reading her thoughts. “And after the way she treated you, you can’t be blamed. But she’s really not as bad as she seems.”

Corbeau nodded enthusiastically, as much as he could with a wooden neck. “Just keep an open mind about her.”

They were being too nice for her to roll her eyes at them, so Johanna stopped herself from doing it. She couldn’t imagine why they seemed to be trying so hard for her to have a good opinion about the witch, but at least their intentions didn’t seem to be malicious.

“Well, I don’t know about her.” She said, trying to be cheerful while changing the topic of the conversation. “But this food is something I can get used to.”

Victoria chuckled, and Albert made her a deep bow. 

“We aim to please, madmoiselle!”

_#_#_#_

Corbeau and Albert were leading her back to her room (under her request - she had no idea when she’d get used to those dark corridors) when she noticed a staircase that was all but trashed. Chunks of the stone steps had fallen and were now hubris, and spiders had made their webs on the handrails. She had noticed that most of the castle was badly in need of dusting, but this was a whole other level of forsaken.

“What happened here?” She asked them, pointing to the staircase. 

“Ah, that.” Corbeau rolled his eyes. “The mistress doesn’t allow us to clean that part of the castle.”

Albert seemed to look around, as if expecting the witch to jump out of a corner at any time before answering.

“That’s the West Wing.” He whispered. “It’s the one place in the castle where you must _never_ go.”

“Why?”

Both of them exchanged a look.

“It’s where the mistress spends most of her time. Trust us, she doesn’t like anyone being nosy about it.”

Johanna frowned. If that was where the witch spent her time, then most of her possessions should be there. Johanna knew nothing of magic aside from what they said in the village, that it was dangerous and not to be messed with. But If there was anything that could free her from her bond to the witch, she was certain she’d find it there. If anything, she was sure to find answers to the mysterious puzzles that surrounded the castle. 

She nodded and allowed herself to be guided back to her chambers. With every step, however, her mind did it’s best to memorize the way. She’d be back very soon. It was her only hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be a oneshot, but I got exited and planned ten chapters... why am I like this


	3. The Hourglass

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only while writing this did I realize that I could have made Alfur’s name Arthur instead of Albert Furgart and honestly why am I like this

Johanna’s heart beat loudly on her chest as she opened the door as quietly as she managed. It was hard to stay calm when she was doing exactly what she was told not to, but she had to try. If her freedom was just waiting for her, hidden on the other side of those obscure stairs, than she had to know, and she had to try. On her right hand, she carried a candle which she had found on her bedside table, and had lit on the fireplace after making sure that it wasn’t alive.

She strained her memory to recall the path to the west wing, but eventually she found herself face to face with the entrance. Taking a deep breath, she put one foot on the first step and then the other, feeling as if the stone might crack under her. Even though her instinct was to run up the stairs as fast as she could so as not to be caught by anyone, she forced herself to go slowly. If she fell on her face, than _certainly_ someone would find her.

On top of the stairs there was a short corridor. More books were stacked on it, and paintings adorned the walls. They looked as if they had been beautiful one day, but now they were cracked by time and lack of care, their golden frames so dirty that one could barely see their colour. It made the artist side of Johanna want to scream, but she had no time to waste with paintings at the moment.

At the end of the corridor, there was a long, blood red piece of cloth hanging from the ceiling, like a curtain. Johanna pushed it aside to reveal a door. As soon as she saw it, she understood the purpose of the cloth: the door was broken, barely hanging on its hinges.

At first, Johanna only surveyed the room that was inside from the gap between the top of the door and the hinges. What she’d been expecting, she didn’t know, but it certainly hadn’t been a bedroom. Only a canopy bed, similar to her own, was in her line of sight, but it was enough to recognize the room as a lived in area; there was a heap on the bed which most likely were rumpled blankets.

It took her another wave of courage to open the door. She put Hilda in the forefront of her mind, repeating to herself that she didn’t want her daughter to grow up without a mother, and then was able to turn the doorknob.

Right away, her attention was brought to the books in the room. They weren’t stacked at random or uncared for like all the others in the castle had been. These were all arranged in a single bookshelf by the wall in front of the bed, with the exception of the one in the bedside table. She wondered for a second why the witch had such a preference for them.

Few things in the room looked out of the ordinary. Aside from the cloth that covered the mirror in the dressing table, and the the dressing table itself seemed to be used for writing and not for its original purpose, only one thing was out of sorts. And if anything at all could help Johanna, that would be it.

In a separate section of the bedroom, made up of a small half-circle of windows with a round table at the center, there was an hourglass. It was likely that Johanna wouldn’t even have noticed it, were it not for the fact that the object seemed to shine. Its light lit up the wall across from the door, in a glow she was sure no candle could produce. It had to be magic, so Johanna squared her shoulders and walked closer.

She considered her options as she approached. Should she steal it? Would it grant her any sort of protection from the witch? Or maybe it was a source of power to the creature, in which case she could smash it to the ground and run away.

The closer she got, the more hypnotic the hourglass’ glow became. There was some sand left at the top, but far less than what had already fallen to the bottom part. It didn’t work at a normal pace, either. Every once in a while, a single grain fell. Johanna couldn’t make sense of what was being counted. She wasn’t even sure if there was anything _being_ counted.

She had raised her hand to touch it when she heard a gasp from behind her, followed by the sound of porcelain breaking and liquid splashing on the floor. Johanna’s eyes widened, and before she could turn around, the creature was already in front of her.

“Don’t touch that!” The witch howled, though she didn’t even look at her. She seemed too worried clutching the hourglass and certifying herself that Johanna hadn’t broken it to even look at the woman.

“Do you know what you could have done?!” Johanna didn’t, but the witch’s tone of voice made it clear that it was not something she wanted to happen. So maybe Johanna had been right. Maybe her powers did come from the hourglass.

“ _Go away._ ”

The witch took a step forward, forcing Johanna back. 

“Go away! Do not come back to this room, ever again.” Taking a deep, fortifying breath, Johanna did as she was told. But not before leaping forward and grabbing the hourglass with her free hand.

The speed at which she ran out of the room was one she didn’t think she’d be able to reach ever again in her life. Stunned by the woman’s audacity, it took the witch a few seconds to register what had happened and begin running after her. But even with that small advantage, she gained ground on Johanna quickly.

After hopping down the staircase which she had just climbed, Johanna tried to get her mind to work. If she simply threw the hourglass at the ground, it might not break. The glass looked sturdy, and both on top and at the bottom, there were squares of wood for stability, which she supposed would also protect the object. If she threw it at the ground and it didn’t break, she wouldn’t have time to pick it up again before the witch caught her. She’d have to find a window and throw it out, or else it might not break.

On that floor, the only room she’d seen other than the witch’s was her own. She couldn’t be sure that any other had a window, or even that they were open, so she’d have to find her way back to her chambers. To make matters worse, her candle blew out because of her speed, leaving her only with the magical light of the hourglass.

After making a turn she wasn’t too confident had been the right one, she looked over her shoulder to see that the witch was closer than she’d thought, looking at her with a murderous expression.

“Give that to me!” She seethed. “You have no idea of what you’re doing.”

That was when Johanna felt her body hit something. Bringing her gaze forward again, she realized she’d collided with one of the columns of stacked books, and that it was now swinging violently. She was suddenly rendered incapable of movement as she looked at the first books at the top beginning to fall, and realized that there was no way out. The books she’d hit were on a dead end. There was no corridor she could turn to to escape, and behind her was the witch. Her choices were being caught and being caught with a concussion, and her frozen limbs seemed to have chosen the latter.

She’d curled her head and shoulders inward, her body instinctively getting ready for all those heavy tomes to fall on top of her. Instead, a very different sort of impact came. She was hugged inside feathery arms, quickly guided down and only felt the weight of her own body hitting the floor.

The sound of books hitting the floor echoed on the corridor, followed by the witch’s pained moan. When Johanna dared to open her eyes again, she saw the witch on her hands and knees on top of her, her open wings and body having protected Johanna from the books.

It took her longer to realize that the witch had her eyes shut tight in pain, her body shaking with effort. Johanna gasped, sliding away from her, and as soon as she’d done so, the witch collapsed on the floor.

Clutching the hourglass to her chest, Johanna watched in horror as the witch writhed, miserable sounds escaping her. As if that wasn’t bad enough, soon the woman began to notice the scent of smoke in the air, and gasped loudly when she realized that it was coming from the beast. At every place where a book touched her, her feathers caught flames, even through the nightgown she was wearing. It was not enough to be considered a fire, but enough that she could clearly see the dark feathers lighting up in orange and yellow and becoming scorched.

Quickly, she put the hourglass to her side and leaned forward to remove the books from the witch, throwing them aside as the beast continued groaning in pain.

“Mistress!” A voice that Johanna recognized as Albert’s shouted from the other end of the corridor. “The mistress is hurt! Everybody, come quick!”

_#_#_#_

Before long, many of the servants had shown up to see what all that noise had been about, and to help after they understood the situation. In a collective effort which even Johanna took part of, they carried the witch to her bedroom, lowering her as gently as they could to her bed.

Most of them left the room as soon as she was settled, anxious about being in the forbidden wing, and only a few of them remained, standing anxiously around the room. Victoria, who had shown up at the hallway but wheeled away when she realized what had happened, entered the room with many rags on her cart. Stopping by the bed, she leaned forward so that cool water streamed out of her, and Albert picked the wet rags up to begin to tend the witch’s wounds. Though she tried to remain still as he pressed them to her burns, she couldn’t help but twitch and whimper.

“There is a broken teacup by the doorway, mistress…” Corbeau said, standing at her bedside table.

“I felt like drinking some.” She groaned. “Dropped it when I saw her here.”

No one had to ask what the _her_ she was talking about had been doing in the room. Focused as she’d been in carrying the witch back to her room, Johanna had forgotten all about the hourglass. But now, she saw the hourglass back in its spot. One of the servants had brought it back, so they clearly knew something about what had happened.

“Would you like some more, perhaps?” 

Victoria wet the cloth again when Albert handed it to her, and then began coming at Johanna’s direction. She was sitting in the dressing table’s seat, as she found it wiser to watch the servants nurse the witch from afar. They probably knew what they were doing better than her.

“I’m not feeling like anything warm, Corbeau. But I do need something strong.” 

The clock nodded and hopped down from the bedside table, running out of the room to do as he was told. As Johanna watched him, she noticed a broomstick cleaning the broken teacup. As she watched it twist a rag over itself to dry the spilled tea, she didn’t notice how close Victoria was until she spoke.

“Poor mistress.” The teapot crooned, bringing Johanna’s attention to her. “She hadn’t gotten burns like that since the first year of the curse. It used to be awful, she’d try everything to touch the books. After she gave up, we haven’t had anything worse than accidental singes, and never too bad.”

The woman blinked, tilting her head to the side.

“I’m sorry, what do you mean?” She asked with a frown. “What _curse_?”

Victoria’s mouth formed a perfect “o” shape. She seemed to have genuinely forgotten that it was impossible for Johanna to know what she was talking about.

“Well, you’d find out eventually, so I don’t think there’s any harm in telling you.” She took a deep breath, making Johanna stand up taller with anticipation. “You see, the mistress isn’t like this naturally, and obviously, nor are we. We were cursed to be like this.”

Johanna gasped, but tried to stifle the sound when she remembered that the witch was not very far from her at all.

“Why? Why would someone do that?”

Victoria’s eyes were suddenly glassy. It was easy to know that she was lost in thought.

“She used to be the apprentice of a powerful enchantress. But then, she did something that displeased her mistress terribly, and in return she was turned into _this_. But this wasn’t what hurt her the most. We were forced to move into this castle, where the enchantress stored all her knowledge which she has acquired over the centuries, and she was forbidden from touching the books she so dearly longed to study. If she does touch… you saw what happened. Our mistress was stripped of all her magic and from everything she loved the most.”

“You mean she doesn’t have magic?” More than anything, this caught Johanna’s attention. After Victoria nodded, she had a brief moment of euphoria before realizing that if the witch had captured Hilda without magic, then she would have no problem keeping johanna in the castle regardless. Immediately after that thought, a wave of guilt struck her. Prisoner or not, the beast had just sacrificed herself for her.

“Then… what is that hourglass for?” Having believed that the object was the source of the witch’s power, Johanna was confused to learn that this couldn’t be the case. What else could explain the beast’s reaction?

Victoria’s expression changed, and Johanna could clearly see that she wasn’t very pleased with her.

“The hourglass was tied to the mistress’s life by the curse. When it runs out of sand, everything that makes her human will disappear, and she will truly become a monster. A similar fate awaits us. We will become nothing more than objects. What you were trying to do could have brought us all the end, madmoiselle. Please, don’t try it again.”

Johanna blushed, trying not to think that she almost had been responsible for the death of all those innocent people in the castle. The witch might have done something to anger the enchantress, but if those objects were all innocent…

Then why were they there?

“What about you?” She asked, hoping that she wasn’t being indelicate. “Why did you guys end up cursed?”

Victoria pursed her lips, though she seemed pleased that Johanna had apparently agreed to not bringing harm to the hourglass again.

“We were her personal servants at the enchantress’s castle, Corbeau, Albert and I. I don’t think we did anything to anger her, but it seemed to be part of the mistress’s punishment to be responsible for our misery.”

Bitterly, Johanna wondered why the enchantress had assumed she would care. Surely, a woman who would lock up a child for stealing a map would not give two thoughts about her servants. Her feelings must have shown on her face, for Victoria closed her eyes and sighed.

“I know what you’re thinking.” She said. “But she is more caring than she lets on. When she hired me, she didn’t need a maid. Corbeau already did most of the work a maid should. But she’d heard that I had been marked as insane by my village, a result of some experiments I’d attempted.”

Johanna perked up. “You do experiments?”

“Yes, I used to do many. But you know how this world treats women. The tailor I worked for fired me when she learned of my interests, and that’s when the mistress invited me to come work for her. I was ready for a boring life at her side, but it turned out that she didn’t want a maid at all. I considered myself her assistant more than anything, helping her organize her books and notes and conduct her researches. Magic is not what I know best, but it was a better chance than I’d find anywhere else.”

_And look at where it got you_ , Johanna was tempted to say. She was then chastised, however, by the voice in her head which reminded her once again that she’d probably be fainted if it wasn’t for the witch. Slowly, the puzzle that was this mysterious castle began to make more sense as she was handed the pieces she needed in order to complete it.

“But if only the three of you worked for her, who are all those other objects?”

The spout and handle of Victoria’s body lifted up slightly, in a gesture that Johanna took as a teapot’s version of shrugging. “They were already here when we came. That is their story to tell. But the enchantress said that if we manage to break the mistress’s curse, then they will be free as well.”

“There’s a way to break the curse?” Johanna exclaimed.

“Well of course there is. Otherwise, what would be the point of leaving us conscious before the hourglass ran out? As long as there is sand falling, we can break it.”

“How?!” She pressed for more. Especially after learning that the servants had done nothing wrong, she felt like she couldn’t just let them die. “I want to help.”

Victoria smiled, a glint on her eyes. She wished she could tell, but as little as she knew about love, she was sure that it shouldn’t be forced. No part should feel obliged to feel it. So she couldn’t let her know, not yet.

“That’s not for you to worry about, dear. It is our problem. Now, why don’t you go back to sleep?”

“OW!” A gasp coming from the bed stopped Johanna from answering. “Albert, this is not helping at all!”

“Sorry, mistress!” The candelabra answered, holding up the candles he used as hands, currently unlit. “These really aren’t as sensitive as human hands.”

The witch turned to her side, facing away from him with what Johanna could swear was a pout.

“Just leave it.” She said. “Go to sleep, I’ll be fine.”

The room had emptied down. All the servants that hadn’t been given a task had already left, but the faces of the two that remained told Johanna everything she needed to know. As bad as the witch seemed to her, those people cared enough to be concerned about her well being. Besides that, Johanna felt like she owed her.

Sighing, she got up from her chair and walked to the bed. Having her head turned to the other side, the witch couldn’t see her approach, but Johanna was certain that she’d heard her steps because of the way she curled in on herself only slightly.

“Why don’t you let me do that?” She told Albert, who was looking at the witch with a look of resignation on his face. He seemed very surprised when she made the offer.

“Are you sure?” He asked her, glancing back and forth between her and her captor.

“It’s easier for me to do it than you, I reckon. Besides, it would be better if you could go and try to find some salve for the burns.”

A glimpse of a smile passed through Albert’s face, and he nodded before hopping down from the bed, ready to begin on his task. Johanna didn’t miss the engrossed way which Victoria was looking at them.

“Seems like you found your way out of the dungeons.” The witch said suddenly, making Johanna turn to her. She was lying on her back again, looking at her with her unnatural eyes through her untamed hair.

Johanna stopped herself from fidgeting by folding the cloth Albert had been using, and gesturing for Victoria to come close so she could wet it again.

“I was told I could have a room and walk through the castle.” She said, then remembering that she couldn’t let the blame fall to the servants for what had happened that night. “Except for this wing.”

“Oh, so you were just being purposefully dense?” Johanna tried not to roll her eyes as she gestured for the witch to roll onto her belly, so she could tend to the burns properly. To her surprise, she obeyed.

“I didn’t mean for anyone to end up hurt.”

At the first touch of the cloth to one of the burns, the witch twitched away from her.

“Intent is meaningless.” She growled through clenched teeth. 

“Look, I need you to help me here!” Johanna snapped. At no point had she ever imagined that one day she’d be scolding a cursed, magicless witch about acting like a child, trapped in a castle with talking objects. She was not mentally prepared for any of this and it was beginning to chip away at her patience.

“ _I_ need to help you?!” She flashed right back. She didn’t speak loudly, but there was still something sharp about her voice, something dangerous. “This is your fault.”

Johanna blushed, feeling affronted by receiving all the guilt. 

“It wouldn’t have happened if you’d just explained me why I couldn’t touch it!”

“How could I? You ran away!”

“I wouldn’t _be_ here if you hadn’t locked my child up!”

“She stole from me!”

“She’s a _child_!”

The witch bared her teeth at her, but otherwise remained silent. She seemed to know that Johanna had made a point, which struck her as odd since she _had_ captured Hilda without a mind to her age. So much mystery surrounded this woman, Johanna wondered if she’d ever understand all of it.

Some time passed with them in silence. The atmosphere was heavy, but at least Johanna could pretend she wasn’t talking because she was concentrating on her task of soothing the burns. The worst ones had managed to burn all the way to her skin, and the witch was not always successful in containing her reactions. Still, she tried to allow Johanna to tell her as best as she could. Or maybe she just had run out of strength to resist.

“My servants never told me your name.” She mentioned, much more calmly, after a while. She didn’t look look at Johanna, instead focusing on the goblet of wine which Corbeau had returned with.

“Nor did they mention yours. I’m Johanna.” 

The witch took a sip of her drink. She was now sitting on the bed, and Johanna had put the cloth aside, letting Victoria take it away with her. They were just waiting for Albert to return either with some salve or empty hands.

It was a beautiful name, the witch thought. Fitting, fierce yet somewhat gentle. It took her a moment to realize she was waiting for her to answer the same question.

“Maven.” She said, and somewhy Johanna smiled. The woman felt that having a name made the creature front of her feel more real. She had been just like her one day, a person like everyone else. Johanna couldn’t forget what the witch had done to her, but still it felt good to know she wasn’t a beast, a being of pure evil that Johanna would never be able to comprehend. In front of her was Maven, not a monster. 

“Well, Maven, I still haven’t thanked you for saving me. So thank you.”

Though she tried to hide her face behind her hair and her goblet, Johanna could still notice the witch’s face heating up around her cheeks.

“I meant to save the hourglass.” She mumbled, making Johanna smirk. “You know now what could have happened if you had broken it.”

“ _Intent is meaningless._ ” Mentally congratulating herself, Johanna threw her words back at her, watching her eyes narrow in annoyance. “But how did you know that I learned about the hourglass?”

The look Maven gave her clearly conveyed a _‘do you think I’m deaf?’_ message. Since she and Victoria hadn’t been too close to the head of the bed, and had both kept their voices down, Johanna figured that this bird-like form caused by the curse must give her heightened senses. Or heightened hearing, at least.

Watching this exchange with a smile on his face, Albert stood by the door with a small pot of salve in his hands. He waited until they stopped talking to enter the room, not wanting to break through whatever civility the two of them had mustered up for the moment. Even when he did get in to offer the balm, his smile refused to go away. Maybe the situation wasn’t as hopeless as it seemed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know in the movie the beauty like... NEVER learns the beast’s name but I think Johanna is more compassionate than that plus I’m tired of not using her name okay
> 
> *remembers we’ll get an actual name for her very soon and it probably won’t be Maven and screams*


	4. Memories not so sweet

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Toh fans I’m going to need you to trust me that I planned this chapter, exactly as it turned out, before YBOS came out and before I even began watching toh.  
> You’ll get it  
> (Also the title of this chapter was given after a line in How Does a Moment Last Forever. You know, from the live action)

_She had greatness ahead of her._

_That was something she’d always liked to believe. Ever since she was a child, and the enchantress took her as her student when her mother was too afraid to keep a child with magical abilities, Maven saw her future overflowing with success. She would be powerful and wise, she’d discover magic like this world had never seen, and she’d never feel anything less than truly free. And how could it be any different? She was the student of the most powerful sorceress in the land, the path to all she wanted could not be clearer._

_So she’d worked her hardest, spent her every waking moment studying. Any book that she could get her hands on would be read in a week at most, and she made sure to always be ready for her lessons. Her mentor became very impressed with her determination, and only fueled her to reach for her dream._

_The heavy schedule didn’t bother her at all. Magic wasn’t just the means to an end for her. It was her passion, her greatest gift and her closest friend, and the way she saw it, spending her days making it stronger was the best she could do. And the enchantress granted her a good life as her student, too. She had clothes fit for a lady, even though she’d never really cared for her appearance, and she’d never known hunger. She even allowed Maven to keep three servants of her own among the ones that worked for the enchantress already._

_But things had changed ever since _she_ came along. To the enchantress’s absolute delight, her very own niece had shown herself to be gifted at magic. So Marianne had come to live with them, barely out of her childhood, and suddenly she was all that the enchantress could think about. _

_Maven had never relied on her mistress for warmth, although she’d never been unkind to her, and showed often that she cared. She didn’t need a mother, regardless of what her servants said when they thought she wasn’t listening. But she needed a teacher, and with Marianne’s arrival, she didn’t even have that anymore. Her lessons would be canceled more often than not so that the enchantress could be with her niece, and when they weren’t, she’d try to teach them both at the same time, and she’d always end up focusing on Marianne and leaving Maven unassisted. Even when she’d seek the enchantress out with a doubt or a request to do an experiment, there would always be something keeping the enchantress from helping her out._

_It was clear to anyone who saw it that she was falling out of grace._

_Maven grunted and reached to her right, grabbing a pillow and burying her face in it to muffle her frustrated scream. She couldn’t sleep. These nights resting had become much harder, as her mind kept her awake with thoughts of where she’d go now. In the last months, she learned nothing new, and it looked like it was only going to get worse as Marianne took to magic. And then, she’d be left with nothing._

_She had one idea. It was dangerous, and questionable at best, and it had been plaguing her for weeks. But there was a part of her that told her she had two choices: take her success, or continue watching everything she’d carefully build in life crumble in front of her eyes. And even though she hated to admit it, that voice was right._

_She lifted herself up from her bed, putting on her slippers and strutting to the door before she lost her courage. She only picked her robe from the hanger before leaving to the corridor, a cold feeling of dread settling on her stomach._

_Fear and magic very rarely mixed well together, but she had no other option._

_It was dark outside the palace, but the corridors were always kept well lit and warm by the enchantress’s magic. There was soft tapestry under her feet and covering the walls, and a glow coming from the magically lit candles that hovered near the walls. Quietly, Maven tip toed to her private study. She didn’t have many books and ingredients there, most of them being in the library and in the brewing room, but it was enough for what she needed to do._

_Though the hour was late, there was still light coming from under the door, and she opened it to find her assistant still arranging books that she’d taken out of place during the day. When she heard her mistress entering the study, Van Gale looked at her with surprise._

_“Mistress!” She chirped, her voice low so as not to echo in the silent palace. “I thought you were asleep. I’m just finishing up for the day, you see.”_

_“It’s okay, Victoria. Go to bed, you can finish tomorrow.”_

_“Don’t worry about me, I have the energy to-“_

_“Madmoiselle Van Gale.” Maven locked their eyes, trying to convey her message. “Go to bed.”_

_After uttering a faint “oh”, the woman made her a quick curtesy and passed by her through the door, making her way back to the servant’s quarters and leaving Maven alone in the small circular room._

_It didn’t take her long to find the book she’d need, for she’d already gone through her spell books in search for that spell weeks before, only to discard the idea. But she was so very tired of that humiliation, of fearing her very fate every day._

_She didn’t want to go back to being nothing._

_So she set the book on her table and lit a fire under her cauldron. Step by step, she added ingredients and layers to her magic, until there was nothing to do but wait. After the last component had been added, she picked up her hourglass, which she used for all her brewing, and set it by the book, knowing that when it ran out of sand, she’d be free at last._

__#_#_#__

_The end result was a pink powder that Maven could swear shined if she was in a dim enough ambient. It had a sickly sweet scent and Maven was careful not to touch it, passing it from the cauldron directly onto a mortar which had been lying nearby._

_Before leaving, she tidied up everything that she’d taken out of place, returning her book to the shelf and putting away her ingredients. After she used the powder on Marianne, she’d have to return to her room immediately so as not to be caught, and she felt it was safer to clear away anything that could point to her before the hex was cast._

_When her study was locked again, she all but ran through the palace’s corridors. The girl slept on the floor above, the same as the enchantress, and Maven had to force herself to breathe quietly as she climbed the staircase. She couldn’t think about what she was doing, couldn’t stop to consider the repercussions of her plan, because she knew that if she did so she’d give up, and then she’d be doomed. A broken soul she could mend over the course of her life, a ruined future could not be tied back together._

_She stopped in front of Marianne’s door. It was locked, but with a swipe of her finger in the air and a quick incantation, the lock clicked and opened. Maven slid inside with caution, finding the girl asleep like she’d hoped. Her only problem was that Marianne had her head facing sideways, in a way that Maven would not be able to place the power on top of her forehead without it dropping down on her pillow._

_It was a big risk to do so, but she had no options other than to try and pull her head to face upward. However, when her hand reached past the canopy that surrounded her bed she was caught by surprise. A circle of golden light formed around her wrist, like she’d stuck her hand inside a lake and produced yellow waves on the water, and she brought her hand close to herself again in haste, but it wasn’t quick enough._

_She recognized that spell, it was used to form a barrier around something one needed to protect, and the moment it was trespassed the owner was warned. In that case, however, the spell was protecting a _who_ , and Maven knew exactly who it was that wanted her safety._

_Gasping, she took a step back only for her back to hit against the very person who could never know what she was doing. Maven turned to face the enchantress just in time to see her face clouding over, her expression going from worry to confusion to anger in few seconds._

_“ _What is going on?_ ” She hissed, and then her eyes locked on her apprentice’s mortar. It couldn’t have been a spell she was unfamiliar with, because Maven could tell she understood her plan as soon as she saw the powder._

_“You ungrateful traitor!” Maven felt herself cower at the exclamation, trying to hide the powder even though she knew the enchantress had already seen it. “After all I’ve done for you, this is how you act?!”_

_“I had no choice!” She said, begging with her eyes for the enchantress to try to understand her._

_The woman shook her head. Waves of anger rolled off of her, making Maven notice why she’d always been so afraid of angering her. Her master or not, this was the most powerful sorceress of their land, and she should never have forgotten it._

_“This is something you’ve had trouble understanding ever since you were a child. There is _always_ a choice. And now you’ll pay for yours. Meet me in your study in ten minutes.”_

_Saying that, the enchantress snapped her fingers and transported her to her room._

_Her windows were locked, and no spell could get them to open. Knowing that the same would happen with the doors to leave the palace, Maven spent the time she had resigning herself to the fact that there was no coming back now. If the prospect of her future had been bad, in just a few seconds it had become uncertain that she would have a future at all, and the best she could do was curl herself into a ball on her bed and rake her fingers through her hair._

_When she did eventually get up, figuring that enough time had gone by and headed to her study, the door was open, probably busted open by her mistress. Inside, sitting in a semicircle, were the enchantress, her niece, and all three of Maven’s servants. Marianne looked sleepy, but there was some curiosity in her eyes. Her servants all looked like nervous wrecks, though, and the unfamiliar sting of guilt pierced her heart at seeing them in that state because of her._

_“Here you are.” The enchantress said when she entered, making all of their gazes focus on her. “Close the door and stand right over there.”_

_She did as she was told, standing completely still in front of the enchantress. The position of the chairs around her made her feel like she was in a jury._

_“I am a merciful woman, Maven. I will give you the chance to explain what happened tonight.”_

_Regardless of what she said, there was no mercy in her eyes. They were stone cold like the ice that covered the lake in the palace’s garden in winter, so hard that it didn’t break when they tried to cut through it. This wasn’t a chance for her to receive compassion. This was a way to force her to admit her guilt. But even knowing it was a trap, she began explaining._

_“I attempted to rid mademoiselle Marianne of her magical abilities.” She flinched when she heard Albert gasp, but continued nonetheless. “So that you would continue to teach me.”_

_“But my aunt never stopped teaching you.” Marianne said, not sounding angry, but Maven didn’t think she was imagining the smugness in her voice. That was another thing that angered her about the girl. She was always so certain of herself that she’d never have the curiosity that one needed to be great. She would never even try to go beyond, and yet it was she that the enchantress chose. “That makes no sense.”_

_“Exactly, my dear.” The enchantress agreed with her, then turned to her servants. “Unless one of you thinks otherwise? Have you noticed something I haven’t? Have I ever treated my apprentice unfairly?”_

_Maven closed her hands into a fist, so tightly that her short nails left marks on her palms. She couldn’t even bring herself to look at them. She knew their opinions on the matter, it wasn’t unusual for them to try and cheer her up after a forgotten lesson, or send her a compassionate smile as they passed the dinner table when they realized she’d been excluded from the conversation. But they’d never say so. They didn’t care about her enough to put their lives on the line, and Maven couldn’t say she blamed them._

_“N-no, mistress. Of course not.” Stuttered Victoria, while Albert and Courbeau remained in silent assenting._

_The enchantress waited one more second to give one of them the chance to stand up for their mistress, and when none of them did, she got up. From her flamboyant green robes, she took her wand, a slender thing that was only used for the most powerful of her spells. The sight of it made Maven restrain herself not to tremble._

_She walked right past her apprentice to the brewing stand, where she picked up her hourglass, and then returned to stand in front of her chair._

_“Maven, despite everything I’ve tried to teach you, you are selfish and ambitious to the point of thoughtlessly sacrificing others, and today you’ll pay the price.”_

_As she spoke, Maven’s body began to itch, a painful sort of sensation that made her skin feel _wrong_. It made her twist herself in horrific contortions, and she saw that the same was happening to her servants, making them fall on their knees on the ground. _

_“I _curse you_ for your crimes. Until the end of your days, you will be a mindless _beast_ , and your servants useless objects.”_

_She stared at her hands with horror as her nails darkened and grew into claws, and feathers sprouted from her skin, the shock of watching the transformation beating its pain._

_“Auntie, are you sure this is-“_

_“I will, however, give you a chance.” She said, waving her wand over the hourglass. It gained an eerie glow, and when she turned it upside down the sand ran much more slowly than it normally would. “This is connected to your life, now. And only when it runs out will the change be irreversible. Don’t even think about turning it upside down when the time is coming, though. It will not work.”_

_“What?” Maven breathed, feeling her energy being stripped away by the curse. There was a sudden weight on her back, and she had to hold back a scream when she realized that she had _wings_ now._

_“Tonight you have proven that there is no love in your heart for anything but knowledge and magic. However, if before the sand runs out you can learn to love another, and earn their love in return, the spell will be broken.”_

_The enchantress set the hourglass on the ground in front of the beast, who grabbed it with shaking hands. Her servants weren’t there anymore, just a clock, a candelabra and a teapot, making her terrified with their utterly human expressions. Even Marianne looked creeped out._

_“How much time do I have?” Maven panted, even as her mind screamed at her that the task she had been given was an impossible one._

_The enchantress seemed to be deliberating, but Maven had known her for long enough to know she’d already had all of this planned out._

_“How old were you when I took you in, again?” She asked, making tears sting at Maven’s eyes with the reminder of exactly who she had been without magic: nobody. “Ah, yes. Seven. That shall be your limit. You have seven years to bring love into your life, or everything that makes you and your servants yourselves will be gone forever.”_

_Turning to Marianne, the enchantress put a hand on her shoulder._

_“I’ll be gone for a second, dear, but I’m coming back soon.”_

_That sentence was all the warning they had before they found themselves surrounded by completely different walls. They were suddenly in a great hall, the air colder and more humid. Books were stacked all over them, and everything was covered in a fine layer of dust._

_As if on instinct, Maven tried to reach for one of the books. She quickly fell after trying to get on her feet, her wings throwing her off of her balance and her feathery, clawed feet feeling more like the useless type of shoes that monarchs wore when they wanted to show off their wealth than like feet. It was this that made her realize that during the transformation, her slippers had been torn and so had the upper back of her nightgown._

_Nevertheless, she crawled on her hands and knees to get closer to one of the stacks, and emitted a howl of pain as soon as she managed to touch it._

_“Ah, yes.” The enchantress said, materialising out of thin air next to Maven. “You see, this is the place where I store all my knowledge! Ancient, forgotten magic, academic knowledge I stole from people who wanted to burn it, this matter of thing. It would be quite against the exercise if I let you have them, wouldn’t it? You should also know that you’ll have no magic during your stay here.”_

_Maven gasped, then flexed her hands in an attempt to summon sparks, an object, any sort of magic, but the enchantress hadn’t been exaggerating. She had nothing, and the realization made her feel herself breaking apart._

_“Not so nice when it happens to you, is it?”  
The enchantress whispered bitterly. Nearby, the three servants seemed to be having as much of a hard time accepting what they had become as Maven was, but it was hard to tell as it was practically impossible to read their body language. _

_A broomstick that had been leaning against the wall walked closer to them, and it’s cable twisted as it bent down to help Albert get up. Maven looked at the enchantress in askance; it didn’t look like she was controlling it._

_“You’ll find that this castle is filled with other people who once did me wrong.” She explained, making Maven gulp. She’d never realized her mistress could be so fearsome. “They won’t ever turn completely into objects, but they can’t speak either. You know what, why don’t we make a deal? Should you break your curse, theirs will break too. If you fail, you will just be one more mildly interesting happening in their monotone lives. Yes, that sounds good.”_

_The enchantress took one last look at her apprentice, running her eyes through what she had become._

_“I’ll leave you to it, now. You have a lot to do if you are to break the curse.”_

_After Maven blinked again, she was nowhere to be seen._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry to shove one more name in your faces, but at least Marianne won’t be very important at all  
> I hope you liked the backstory! It was probably the hardest thing to write so far since it’s very different from the original story but it was super interesting to develop


	5. Something There

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Watch how many song references I can squeeze in a chapter
> 
> Also forgive any typos and grammar mistakes, I reviewed this really fast because of my need for instant gratification

Johanna stood at the top of the staircase to the forbidden wing, thinking she surely must have lost her mind. After the events of the night before, she’d been left with no hopes for an escape from her captivity, and when she’d gone to bed her heart had been aching with longing for her daughter even if she’d just come out of a frantic series of happenings. And yet, though her heart squeezed because of the distance between her and all that she loved, her mind seemed much closer.

All through the night and into the next morning, she couldn’t stop thinking about what Victoria had told her. There _was_ a woman behind the monster, after all, even if it was a coarse, sarcastic one, and no person should be forced to live in the state of solitude that seemed to be hers. She had her servants, but Johanna had yet to see any of them show signs of a deeper bond with her.

Granted, the witch had been ready to doom _her_ , and worse, _her daughter_ , to such a life, but keeping her lowest points in the forefront of her mind would do Johanna no good if she wished to change the direction of her relationship with her captor. And surely she must be out of her senses, for she really was hoping to attempt to get to know her better. She couldn’t really tell why, but it felt wrong to let her be lonely, not because she’d saved her or because Johanna thought about befriending her in order to escape, but only because something in her wanted to get to know the beast.

No, not the beast, she told herself. Maven.

Victoria wheeled past her, lifting one eyebrow at seeing the woman there. They’d already seen each other that morning, when Johanna had gone down to the kitchens to eat breakfast, and now she assumed the servant had been with Maven to deliver her her meal.

“I’m here to check on her burns.” Johanna explained as she saw Victoria’s confusion. “See if they’re healing well and all.”

The teapot hummed in acknowledgment and continued her path back down to the kitchens, and Johanna still heard the cluttering sound of ceramic against wood as Victoria’s cart climbed down the stairs behind her when she walked through the corridor leading to the witch’s room. No natural sunlight streamed into that part of the castle, but it was still brighter than it had been at night. Once again, her eyes couldn’t help but be caught by the paintings on the wall, disheartened by the dreadful state they were in. She was sure she’d be able to restore at least some of their original glory if she could get her hands on them. Well, she thought, she might as well do so. It was not like she was going anywhere in a hurry.

Behind the red curtain, she found Maven sitting on her bed, her back propped up on pillows and her food tray to the side as she read a book. Johanna startled when she realized what the witch was doing, and ran forward to try and grab it before she got hurt. The witch was quicker, though, and noticed Johanna’s presence just in time to hold the book out of her reach.

“Good morning to you as well.”

“What are you _doing?_ ” Johanna gasped, one knee on the edge on the bed and her body leaning forward across Maven’s lap as she tried to take the object. “You’ll burn yourself even more.”

Though the woman couldn’t see it, Maven rolled her eyes. “Ah, because I’m so eager to harm myself, aren’t I?” 

Finally giving up, Johanna went back to standing by the side of the bed and crossed her arms with her eyes staring daggers at the witch.

“That’s what it seems like! Why are you holding that? And why isn’t it…” Johanna inhaled, looking between Maven’s hand and her lifted eyebrows. “Why isn’t it burning you?”

The witch sat back once more when she realized Johanna had come to terms with the fact that it wasn’t burning her, figuring that the woman’s worry was due to not wanting to have to tend to her wounds once more, and closed the book on her belly. She’d read it so many times she would be able to find the spot she’d been at easily.

“There are some books that don’t burn me. They are very few, but they exist.”

Maven pointed to the shelf on the wall in front of the bed, the one with the perfectly organized books that had called her attention when she saw the room for the first time. They really were very few, Johanna thought she couldn’t even count ten.

“I think it was another trick of the Enchantress's. They were all in this room, probably to give me some sort of hope. They’re not exactly the sort of thing I want to read though. They’re all fables about selflessness and compassion. The old hag sure does have some humor.”

Johanna tilted her head at the witch when she laughed mirthlessly upon finishing speaking. There had to be more to this story than she knew, but Johanna didn’t think that was the time to ask for an explanation.

“I see.” She said. “Well, how are you feeling? I came here to take a look at your burns. Did you begin feeling any worse pains or just an itch?”

Taken aback, Maven blinked. “Did Victoria ask you to come here?”

“No, she didn’t.” Taking out the objects she’d brought on her pocket and putting them on the bed, Johanna answered. “Thought we might need to call for her. I wanted to clean your wounds again, is she the easiest way to get water?”

The witch shook her head negatively and pointed to the washing chamber. “There’s a bucket of water there. Even when you take some water out, it fills itself again.”

“Oh!” Taking the rags she’d found in the kitchen and brought with her to the chamber, Johanna hummed in delight when she saw that indeed even the small amount of water she’d taken out to wet the cloths came back instantly. “I suppose living in an enchanted castle has its perks.”

Not understanding why she’d there of her own volition, Maven watched Johanna with curiosity as she came closer again.

“Alright, now turn to your belly. The burns in your back are worse, so I need to see them first.”

Figuring she’d lose nothing by doing what she was told, Maven adjusted her pillows so that she could lie with her back and winds facing up, and Johanna sat down on the edge of the bed by her side. When the woman undid the bandages, she felt her skin uncomfortably sensitive, both because of the burn and because of her being unused to physical contact of any kind, but she did her best to stay put. Better not to show weakness in front of the prisoner.

“I won’t lie to you, these aren’t looking too good.” Johanna cooed in a soft tone to try and make the witch remain calm. “But it’s only been a couple of hours. I’ve never taken care of magical wounds before, but if they are anything like natural ones they should begin healing soon. Alright, I’m going to start cleaning them now.”

That warning was all the preparation she had before the cold, wet cloth touched her tender skin, and she twitched at the first contact. Johanna pretended not to notice.

“If we take good care of them they won’t be a bother for much longer.” She said as she pressed the rags gently to the burns, hoping her voice and reassurances would stop the witch from becoming too stressed with the situation. “My Hilda had some very similar ones a while ago. Tried to jump over the Beltane bonfire because some kids had dared her to, you see. But she got fine and so will you.”

Though she had barely been paying attention to what Johanna was saying, because after all these years she was quite sure there were few things that could significantly harm this beast form of her curse, her attention was caught when the child was mentioned. It felt odd to hear her being talked about so casually, as if Johanna had just walked in to see to her wounds and for a cup of tea before returning to her daughter, and both of them could tell the atmosphere of the room had become awkward with the comment.

“Speaking of your family.” Maven began, even knowing she was being insensitive. “Should I expect any daring attempts at rescue from your husband?”

Rather than huffing or slapping her for reminding her of the beloved she’d had to leave behind like Maven had expected, Johanna exhaled sharply, almost a chuckle.

“Oh, I don’t have a husband, so it won’t be a problem.”

“You think the father will be fine with this situation, then?” The beast asked after considering if the question was or not too rude, and deciding it didn’t matter. It happened often enough that women would have children without being married, Johanna didn’t need to suffer any prejudice at the castle on top of what she certainly must have gone through in her village.

“I don’t think you understood this.” This time, there was more open humor in her voice. “There is no _father_ , or any man with a similar function. Hilda was adopted. I found her when she was a little baby.”

It was good that the position in which Maven needed to stay for Johanna to look at her wounds hid her face in the pillows, because she was certain she was blushing with embarrassment at that moment. Last thing she needed was to look like a fool in front of the woman.

“It was wrong of me to assume. I had just figured she was… well, truly yours because of how fiercely you are willing to protect her.”

“Hey, she _is_ truly mine!”Johanna stopped cleaning the wounds to put her hands on her waist. “I raised her, took care of her and loved her. That’s what a mother does.”

“Of course, but not everyone is willing to do so much for people who don’t share their blood. I hadn’t meant to offend.”

Maven was not one to apologize with frequency, but she could see she’d touched a subject she shouldn’t have. If there was anything she knew about the newest member of her castle, it was how much her daughter meant to her. If she didn’t, Johanna wouldn’t be there at all.

“Well, they should.” Johanna huffed as she resumed her previous task. “Family is family, and if anything the fact that you found it just makes it more special. I don’t know who taught you otherwise, but they were wrong.”

Johanna might not know, but Maven did, and she was reasonably sure she had _not_ been family to the woman who had taken her in, and the sting she felt when Johanna cleaned a particularly nasty burn seemed to prove her point. But then again, the woman who had abandoned her for fear of having a witch in her house, even if that witch was her daughter, hadn’t been her family either.

Running a hand through the wild combination of plumes and hair strands on her temple, the witch tried to brush those thoughts away.

“What do you do for a living? Raising a daughter by yourself is no easy task, I imagine.”

“I am an artist.” Johanna smiled. “Most of my money I’d get from doing coal drawings of things people asked me to. But what I really love is painting. Unfortunately, paint and canvases can get pretty expensive, and it’s not like I’d get many buyers in my town, at least. I only manage to do a few each year, and I sell them at the annual spring fair in Paris. Hilda loves visiting the city. The money I get is just enough to pay for the trip and for more supplies, but it’s worth it. She needs to see the world beyond that miniscule village.”

“That’s a very honourable job.” Maven said, ignoring the parts about her daughter lest she add insult to the injury. “You must be very good to be able to make a living out of it.”

Johanna’s hair covered her face as she set aside the cloth to reach for the salve. Maven could only see a small smile on her face. “Thank you. Most people think it’s a useless job, but it really is what I love doing.”

“How can it be useless when it adds beauty to the world?”

Right before applying the salve to the burns, the woman smiled more directly at her. “I think so too.”

They didn’t talk further as Johanna finished tending to the wounds and wrapping them up again. Maven politely thanked her when she was done, but when she had turned away to head back to her own room, she noticed the witch had picked up the book she’d been reading before again, continuing to ignore her food.

“You said you don’t really like them.” Johanna said from the doorway. “Why do you keep reading?”

Maven looked surprised when she looked up from her book to the woman again, having expected her to already be gone.

“I have nothing else to read.” She answered slowly, afraid the first explanation hadn’t been clear since Johanna was asking her again.

“Well, yes, but can’t you do other things?”

Though Johanna hadn’t meant it to be a calling out of any sort, the beast looked away from her and down to the book again. 

“I really like reading.” With her voice small and way more vulnerable than she would have liked it to be, Maven was aware she must have sounded like a child, but Johanna didn’t laugh at her at all.

“Makes sense.” Johanna nodded, carefully considering her next words before they came out of her mouth. The Maven she knew was a grumpy and rude woman, but something told her she was beginning to peel away at her layers, and it could be her natural optimism tricking her, but she thought she was catching a glimpse of the dear and unsure soul that lied beneath.

“In that case, would it help if I read to you?” She said at last, making the beast return her gaze to her, now clearly startled.

“What?”

“Well, the books only burn _you_ , right? This means I can still touch them, so I could read them outloud for you. I know it’s not the same as reading something yourself, but still.”

Maven blinked up at Johanna, feeling in her heart both amazement and confusion. Not even her servants, the people who knew how much this meant for her, had ever made her the offer. Why her prisoner would was beyond her understanding. Of course, this could be an attempt at being let go, but Maven had never promised freedom in exchange for good graces.

“Sorry, it was just an idea.” Johanna mumbled embarrassedly when the witch didn’t answer for a long beat. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

“No, it’s a great idea!” Maven said quickly, louder than she’d meant. “You… would you do that?”

Happy to see Maven didn’t think her to be some sort of naive, ridiculous girl, Johanna smiled. There was a glimmer of hope in her purple eyes that Johanna had never seen before, and it seemed to light up Maven’s entire face. She looked a lot more human in that moment.

“Of course! Why don’t you eat your food and then I’ll pick something from one of the piles to read you?’

Despite herself, Maven smiled. “I’d love that.”

_#_#_#_

“Should we bring your tea to the gardens, mistress?”

Corbeau’s voice by her side startled her, and she turned to find him on the cabinet beside her. Furtively, she stole a glance at Johanna, who was picking them a book for the evening from the multiple choices in her bedrrom’s corridor. When Maven noticed with relief that Johanna hadn’t heard or spotted her, she turned back to the servant.

“No, today is much too cold, she’ll freeze outside. Light up the fire in the hall and serve us tea there. Please.”

After this, she returned to watch Johanna choose between what seemed to be an adventure novel and a botany book. She’d never read anything about magic, never touched the ancient knowledge that Maven dreamed of, but it didn’t make their reading sessions feel like they were worth any less. Magic or not, Johanna managed to take her to other worlds and introduce her to new people, things she thought she’d been doomed to spend the rest of her life without. Besides, between the reading and the conversations that usually followed, Johanna was in her company more often than anyone had ever been, even before the curse. She thought that that was what friendship must feel like, and it was growing on her.

“Can I do anything else for you?” Maven asked impatiently when Corbeau still did not leave. She felt uneasy with him by her side when she was, by all means, hiding. Every day, her curiosity made her watch Johanna as she picked a book, and everyday she went back to her room before Johanna could catch her to pretend she had been disinterestedly waiting for her instead.

“Oh, sorry!” He whispered, looking amused. “It’s just you looked so lost in thought, I was wondering if maybe there was something you wanted to share.”

Maven bit down on her lower lip. She didn’t have fangs, exactly, but the curse did give her sharper teeth and so she had to take care not to cut herself.

“She’s been reacting extremely well to her… _situation_.” Maven said, her voice still low for fear of being heard. There was no problem in sharing this dilemma with Corbeau, she thought. He was her oldest servant, had been with her ever since she was a small child, he’d try to help her. “I wonder if there’s anything I can do to make her feel better here.”

“Well, there’s the usual, of course. Chocolate, roses, promises you don’t intend to keep-“

He stopped his listing when the witch glared at him, clearly not happy with or interested in his suggestions. Even though she knew he was kidding, the implication of Maven doing a romantic advance on the woman she had locked up to begin with didn’t sit well with her, and she didn’t want her servants to feel like they could begin any funny attempts either.

“I’m joking, of course!” He said when he read the expression on Maven’s face. “You’re clearly the best person to answer that question, in all honesty. You’re the one who spends the most time with her. Surely, you must know what she likes at this point. Anything you do to show that you were listening when she talked to you, I’m sure she’d appreciate.”

“Yes, I think you’re right. I’ll think on that… thank you.”

The clock smiled before walking away. It was peculiar to see it, and perhaps a little too optimistic on his part to think so, but it seemed like the two of them were coming together on their own. Who would have known? Maybe other pleasant surprises awaited for them in the future.

_#_#_#_

When Maven announced they wouldn’t be doing their typical reading time that morning, Johanna was confused to find herself disappointed. That activity had begun as an act of goodwill of sorts, an attempt to get the witch to feel less miserable. As the weeks had passed, however, the two of them had fallen into a pleasant routine of reading and spending time with each other, to the point where Johanna looked forward to their mornings and tea times together. She thought it must be because the loneliness of the castle was starting to affect her, even though she did spend some time talking to the trio of objects that still were able to keep most of their human functions. Still, it saddened her when the witch canceled their plans.

“There’s something I want to show you instead.” Maven continued, brushing off imaginary specks of dust from the skirt of her dress. She’d spent most of her imprisonment wearing clothes so simple they would only be fit for sleeping for someone who didn’t have their body covered by feathers, but since her burns began to finally heal properly she’d been putting more effort into dressing nicely. Well, maybe not exactly _nicely_ , but better than she had been, anyway. It wasn’t as if much could be expected from someone who had to deal with wings and claws.

“Oh?” Johanna perked up, her curiosity spiked. In the time she’d been there, she’d already explored most of the castle during the hours when she wasn’t with the witch, and the prospect that there were even more things to discover excited her.

“Yes. Follow me, please.” 

Maven had walked past her and into the corridor outside of her bedroom, and Johanna fell into step beside her.

“Can you wait here?” Johanna asked. “I just need to put this book back in the pile I picked it from.”

She’d chosen the book just before heading to Maven’s room, and since she didn’t know if there was any order in the way the tomes were organized, she’d figured it might be better to return it before she forgot its place.

“There’s no need.” The beast answered, and either Johanna was imagining things or she actually sounded somewhat nervous. “You can bring it to where we’re headed.”

Johanna didn’t ask any more questions as Maven guided her. They climbed down flights of stairs until they were in the ground floor, and passed through many small tea rooms and living areas, until they arrived at a dead end. Johanna knew it was a dead end, because she’d been there before and the double doors at the end of the corridor wouldn’t open no matter what she did. However, to her surprise, the beast took a small bronze key from her pocket and stuck it in the keyhole. She then looked again at Johanna, looking uncertain.

“Would you like me to close my eyes?” She asked with playfulness, doing exactly that as the witch nodded shily.

“It might be better. I’ll… I’ll help you get inside.”

She heard the doors getting open, straining her ears to try and get a clue. Soon, Maven had placed herself behind Johanna and her hands on her upper arms, carefully pushing her forward until she was inside the room.

“You may open them now.”

At the first glimpse of her surprise, Johanna gasped. It was much brighter than the rest of the castle, as the ceiling high windows had their curtains open, and her eyes took a moment to adjust. The walls were a soft shade of white that intercalated with blue parts where birds had been painted, and the pattern made it seem like the birds were flying up to the ceiling, where there were even more of them as well as a chandelier. Near the fireplace, there were couches and armchairs and high bookcases. The window directly in front of her had a windowsill seat, and to its left lay an array of art supplies worthy of the greatest masters of France. A table with all different sorts of brushes and sketching material, and cabinet with paints of all the shades of the rainbow on its shelves, and stacks of blank canvases inside it, judging by the open door on its bottom part. Considering that there were other chests in the room which were closed but probably also filled, there was more material in the room than Johanna could spend in a lifetime.

“This is the drawing room.” Maven said while Johanna was still too stunned for words. “I don’t know who was the owner of this castle before the Enchantress, but they clearly had some interest in art. Do… do you like it?”

“Like it?” Johanna breathed, unbelieving. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

A corner of Maven’s lips lifted up only slightly, and she watched Johanna’s reaction closely, pleased with herself for having made a good choice. She’d asked the servants to clean up the room while Johanna had been sleeping, and she herself helped in the parts that didn’t have any books, and it had been worth it.

“If you like it so much, it’s yours.”

The woman gasped and turned to her abruptly. “Really?”

“Yes, it’s yours to do as you please.” Maven took a step back as she said that, ready to leave the human free to enjoy her gift. She was stopped, however, when Johanna surprised her by leaping forward and closing her arms around her neck.

“Thank you so much!” Johanna said, seemingly unaware that she’d thrown the beast in a state of complete shock. Her hands were lifted, because she had no idea of where she should put them, and as she breathed in all she could feel was the scent of Johanna’s hair. She could feel apple and peach, and something that was entirely too bright to be in that castle. Though she hadn’t seen it in years, she thought that that was exactly what summer smelt like. How did someone manage to bloom like that when she was trapped in eternal winter?

When Johanna retreated, she was smiling up at her. There was something in the way she was looking at her that Maven couldn’t decipher, and chose to ignore instead.

“Not…” Still trying to gather her thoughts, Maven had some trouble remembering what it was that she should say. “Not for that. I’ll leave you to enjoy it.”

“Wait, where are you going?” It was only when the witch tried to take another step back that she realized that Joahanna had taken her unnatural clawed hands on her own. Didn’t she worry she was going to cut herself? Since the night they met the witch had known she was brave, but it was one thing to tie yourself to a beast to save someone you love and entirely another to get comfortable enough to touch her without even shuddering. Maven didn’t know how to feel about that.

She tilted her head. “I don’t know?”

Though she cringed when she realized how much like a lost child that had sounded, Johanna only smiled wider.

“Stay with me, then! I brought the book like you said, and there are many here. Why don't you help me take a better look at this place, and then we can still read a little.”

Maven shifted her weight between her feet as Johanna walked to the bookshelf. She couldn’t fathom why Johanna would want her captor in the only room besides her bedroom where she had control over who could and couldn’t come in, and just thinking about it was a bit alarming. The woman picked up a book and Maven watched as a blush tinted her cheeks. Given that her servants had previously informed her that those books were all romances, Maven could imagine the reason for that.

“If that is of your liking.... sounds good.”

Johanna smiled to herself. She’d been right to try and get closer to the beast. If she’d simply stayed away, she would have never even dreamed of meeting the person she was talking to at the moment. There was something about her now that hadn’t been there before, and she found herself growing quite fond of this new Maven. Time would tell if she was right to give her that chance or not.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had been hoping that when season 2 came around, I would have been at the end of this fic. But then I got the idea for Love and Honour and had to write it immediately, and then I had the idea for that Halloween countdown and had to write all those fics AND THEN November came and I have to focus on my finals... so I guess I’ll take a halfway mark *throws confetti because somehow we’re already in the middle of this fic*

**Author's Note:**

> The beast form of the librarian is inspired by Howl from Howl’s Moving Castle, so if you need visual aid here it is: https://pin.it/2ak6L92
> 
> Also, I was planning to leave it here, but I actually grew fond of the concept while writing. So I might write more if you guys like it


End file.
